


Follow Me

by FancifulRivers



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Child Death, Child Murder, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:11:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4306377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancifulRivers/pseuds/FancifulRivers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The animatronics are hardly the real nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Follow Me

**Author's Note:**

> The FNAF franchise does not belong to me.
> 
> Warning for non-graphic child death.
> 
> The murderer's dialogue in the beginning is based on the fan song "Follow Me" by Tryhardninja.

"Follow me-"

The golden head bobs, encouraging, voice hushed as if conferring a great gift on the cluster of children whose parents are distracted ( _they will regret that later, they will cry and scream and drown their sorrows in handfuls of prescription pills and convulsive swallows of foul-smelling alcohol_ ). The nearest girl hangs back, suspicious, but a golden-furred paw extends, and she takes it.

"Follow follow follow-"

The safe room isn't safe at all. But it's small and it's quiet and more importantly, it's _hidden_ -

A scream spirals up into the rafters, cut short and hidden by the chintzy pop music blaring through the restaurant, by the animatronics' three-piece band. The golden Bonnie head sits discarded on the table, the suit hastily shrugged out of and laid across its customary place. Blood stains the checkered tiles, soaking the edges red.

_Save them-_

He walks out, calm, though his work boots have blood in the treads and the bottom of his uniform slacks are similarly sodden. The children will not be found for at least another hour. He will be long gone. The management will not pursue. They have an _understanding_. The place will almost certainly close, but what does that matter? There are so many establishments where children congregate-

He stops short. It's impossible for the Puppet to be out of its box, but it hangs in the gloomy service hallway anyway, pupil-less eyes nevertheless managing to glare. Spindly fingers reach toward him.

"Too late," he tells the Puppet, striving for a jovial tone, though he cannot deny the shiver that slides down his back. " _Much_ too late." He laughs, jingling his keys in his pocket. They open up all the rooms in the building, and he knows every nook and cranny.

The Puppet hesitates, arms dropping to its sides. Its eyes dart behind him.

"Good luck," he tells the Puppet in all sincerity, stepping past it and out the back door, cutting short the muffled shouts of children's laughter and the jangle of piano keys.

- _You can't._


End file.
